


Later that night

by IraBragi



Series: Building Home [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Found Families, M/M, families are hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-07 10:33:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12839337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IraBragi/pseuds/IraBragi
Summary: A direct continuation to Meet the Family





	Later that night

We had just gotten into bed when my phone rang.  The ringtone was personal (rather than the Kill Bill alarm that went off when someone needed stitching up) and as soon as I sat up and looked at the screen I bit back a sigh.

“It’s my sister, god, this is not going to be fun.”  Jason made a sympathetic noise and rolled over to press a kiss on my hip, presumably as a show of support.  Taking one more deep breath I hit answer.

“Hi Rebecca, what's the matter?”  I could picture the older of my two little sisters in mind’s eye with perfect clarity.  Probably sitting on her bed and not a hair out of place even at midnight.  She was definitely stressed though, normally she would never deviate from a healthy sleep schedule by being up so late. 

“Are you safe Aaron?  Can we talk?”  I looked around the room.  There was a tactical baton under Jayson’s pillow and two batarangs that had been “liberated” from the batcave tucked under the bed.  His knives hung on the wall to the left and guns were in the closet a few feet away (we had both agreed that as often as he woke up panicking from nightmares having guns in easy reach was a bad idea.)  On my side of the bed there was a gaudy red and pink striped baseball bat (a gift from Harley) and my go-bag of emergency medical stuff.  And sandwiched in between all that, there was everything else.

Jace’s books (some of them so old they were nearly falling apart, some of them with still-uncreased spines waiting to be read) that he never managed to put back on the bookshelf.  My shelf of knick knacks (my favorite one was a little bear with blue eyes.  A gift from Jace after he had to be away for several weeks on Hood business.  He said it reminded him of me and whenever I saw it it made me smile.)  Clothes, computers, projects, junk; all the things that seem to multiply overnight in a home.

And finally there was my boyfriend, my Jaybird, himself.  Curled around me, breathing softly, his hands warm and calloused against my skin.  

I had never felt so safe in my life - and I knew that that wasn’t what she was asking.

“I’m fine ‘beca.  What’s the matter?”

It was all the things I had expected: he’s dangerous, he’s abusive, he threw a knife for goodness sake!  It’s a miracle he missed!  (We shared a smile at that one.  Jay always hits exactly what he is aiming for.)  I was throwing my life away, she continued.  Was I trying to punish myself by living in Gotham?  There were so many opportunities closer to home.  So many things that would make me happier.  Couldn't I see how good it would be if I just started living my life right?  Ever since I started taking hormones I’d gotten a darkness in me.  I was turning into our father (I choked at that one and Jason’s arms tightened around me.)   I listened for as long as I could and then cut in.

“He was standing up for me.  You do remember that part right?  I know he shouldn’t have run off like that and certainly throwing things wasn’t appropriate but he wasn’t wrong.  Mom and Dad need to either accept me for who I am or just admit that they never will.  And it’s high time I stopped letting them get away with misgendering me; with telling me they love me while they disrespect everything that I am.”  

I wished could say I felt strong and confident but I didn’t.  I spar with a deranged child vigilante who has broken my ribs, not once but twice, for fun.  I walk down the street every day in the highest crime city in the country, possibly the world.  I regularly sew, tape, and drug up, people who are actively bleeding out - sometimes directly after they have tried to kill me.  I can look batman in the eye and politely inform him that if he doesn't back off and apologize right now it’s going to be another ten years until he sees his son again.  I’ve lived through ptsd and depression that tried to kill me and came out the other side kicking.

And even after all that, talking with my family still makes me feel like the terrified nineteen year old I was the day I told my mom that I was in love, and I was moving to Gotham, and they couldn’t stop me.  (The inlove part ended a couple of years later but Gotham stuck.)

She doesn't hear me, just like I knew she wouldn't.  I suppose she’s not even entirely wrong, but I’ve thought about it a lot and I’ve come to the conclusion that I don’t care.  My life isn’t safe and I suppose that it’s not particularly sane or healthy either, but it’s mine and I love it.  

I’ve lived with nice, good, ordinary, people who thought that love meant controlling my every thought and action until I was the nice, sweet, polite, daughter they believed they deserved...  I’ve woken up next to a completely law abiding citizen, who thought it was great fun to yell and mock me until I was a hyperventilating, crying mess… and I’ve woken up next to someone who I know has blood on his hands and I also know just how damn hard he has worked to be more than his demons.  At the end of the day I’ve got one life to live and for better or worse I’ve found people who respect, believe in, and love me, to share it with.  Honestly, I count myself incredibly lucky.

I must have zoned out for a moment because the voice on the other end of the line changes and suddenly it’s Connie (short for Constance, but that’s far too long a name for such a butterfly of a person) my other sister, who is chattering away in my ear.

"Rebeca thinks your boyfriend is really bad. Like a vigilante or something. Like Batman!  But if he's a vigilante I think he's the hot one. You know... what's his name... Nightwing!"

The yelp that came from beside me was somewhere between deeply traumatized and horrified.  I smile devilishly and stick my tongue out at him.   
"I agree Connie, Nightwing does have a great ass."  The yelp reaches a pitch too high for man and quite possibly dog as well to hear.   


End file.
